


I saw Marty kissing Rustin Cohle

by scarlet_malfoy



Category: True Detective
Genre: M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlet_malfoy/pseuds/scarlet_malfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2012, post-Carcosa. Marty and Rust's first Christmas together, but they haven't told anybody about them yet. Maggie and the girls and their guests are over. Someone's hung up a mistletoe. Mr. Hart may or may not have some solid plans for it and Rust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I saw Marty kissing Rustin Cohle

Rust stands in Marty’s kitchen alone, picking half-heartedly at the mingled dark and white meat on his plate, part of the bird that Maggie cooked and brought along with her to Christmas dinner. It’s good; not too dry, even without the gravy.   
  
He stands because every place at the table is overtaken by plates of all sizes, other food offerings brought by Maggie, a smaller number brought by Audrey, and just one brought by Macie: breaded and fried cauliflower, her own claim to fame for family dinners since she was old enough to be trusted using the deep fryer.   
  
Marty’d told him that as they cleaned house earlier that day. He’d been pretty surprised when Maggie and the girls had wanted to come over last minute, but Rust could tell he was pleased, too. As the hour of their arrival had drawn near, Marty talked a mile a minute about everything. Everything, inconsequential things, and anything but the huge, worrisome thing looming larger and larger in both their minds.   
  
Nobody knew about them. Oh, they all knew that Marty was helping Rust to get back on his feet, that they’d started working together again, that Rust was crashing here with him for the time being.   
  
But what wasn’t obvious was how once the front door closed behind them after a long day at the office or out on the road, things changed. Only yesterday Marty had shut and locked the front door, only to be pressed up against it by Rust, not quite unexpectedly, but it had knocked the wind out of him all the same, his head hitting the cherry wood with a clunk as he moaned into Rust’s mouth.   
  
Rust stares through the entryway leading into the living room from where he stands in the kitchen. Marty is seated in a folding chair not far from that door now, balancing a plate of food on his knee as he listens to Audrey on the couch tell a story about something some art critic said at her last exhibition.   
  
Every light is on in every room of the house, and it unnerves Rust. He feels trapped in the spotlight. By habit both he and Marty keep the lighting at half-mast, both fans of harder-lit mood lighting, both feeling more comfortable half-hidden and free in their own little hide-away, cut off from the rest of the world.   
  
But everyone is here now, overtaking their little kingdom. Maggie sans new husband, for some reason; Audrey and her fiancé, Brandon; Macie with her best friend Colleen, who’d been a fixture at holiday gatherings ever since her single mother died from breast cancer when she and Macie were in 6th grade. Marty’d told him about that, too. Said she was a sweet girl. Like a daughter to him. Hadn’t seen her in a couple years.   
  
Christmas customs are strange to Rust. He’s never really had them, never really had any lasting ones, anyway.   
  
In the entryway between the kitchen and the living room, Rust realizes that someone’s hung a sprig of mistletoe. He thinks through the cast members, can’t easily figure out who done it. It’s not particularly in character for any of them; definitely not Maggie. Possibly Audrey, persistently elated and in love lately. Probably not Macie, shy as she is.   
  
Rust glances at Marty again to consider him, and finds him already staring at the damned thing where it hangs, a little green menace, giving Rust pause, a reason to avoid stepping directly beneath it to enter the living room and partake in Marty’s family celebration.   
  
Marty’s gaze shifts to Rust, and Rust freezes, his fork halfway to his mouth. They’ve both been caught staring at the damn thing now. Marty’s quirking a guilty half-smile and Rust silently names him culprit.   
  
“Excuse me a minute,” Marty says to the room at large. He stands, sets his plate down on his chair and walks into the kitchen. Conversation continues on in the living room without a lull, and Marty’s sauntering toward him like a lazy shark, a twinkle in his eye as he passes beneath the mistletoe.  
  
Rust sets his own plate down on the table and steps easily backward, until his legs hit the sink against the far wall, out of view of anyone in the living room. His hands settle unsteadily along the edge of the counter behind him, fingernails digging into the caulking between the sink and the fake wood.   
  
Marty finally stops moving forward when he’s just inches away from Rust’s face. He’s got his hands on his hips and a grin on his face as he gestures vaguely toward the mistletoe with his head. “Do you like it?”   
  
Rust raises an eyebrow at him.   
  
“Tell me.” Marty moves his face closer to Rust’s in one quick motion, like a hummingbird, a chicken poking, prodding, strutting.   
  
“I think you’ve complicated things a bit,” Rust concedes, quieter than usual. “You’re drawing some unusual attention to—“  
  
Marty’s hands are on Rust’s stomach then, and Rust’s breath catches in his chest, making Marty grin with some kind of pride. His hands drift slowly up his chest, then down again, appreciating the feel of every woven strand of fabric against the tips of his fingers.    
  
Rust stares at him, shifting slightly, a smile on the peripheral of his lips. “What’re you doing, Marty?”   
  
Marty just grins as his hands settle themselves around Rust’s waist. He moves fully into Rust’s space, then, his own hips fitting snug alongside Rust’s, leaning his full weight against the other man as he captures his lips with his own.   
  
Rust stands there allowing himself to be kissed for the longest moment, his hands still holding onto the sink behind him. He sighs, and seems to melt as he gives in.   
  
His arms wrap around Marty’s shoulders as he pulls him in closer, taking charge of the kiss and forcing Marty’s mouth open with his tongue.   
  
Marty lets him, grinning into the kiss like the cat who got the cream. When he pulls his mouth away, Rust is disappointed. 

“Now, if we walk over there and I kiss you in front of God and everyone, are you gonna shit your pants?”   
  
Rust barks out a laugh, the feel of it reverberating through the both of them. “Not now that you’ve warned me. That’s your plan, here? For real?”   
  
Marty nods. “That okay with you?”   
  
Rust considers. They’ve talked about inviting Maggie out to lunch to tell her, and sitting down with the girls on one of their visits to fill them in.   
  
They’re together. It’s been established. They’re on the same page, it’s going to have to come out to everyone else at some point. Rust’s heart is pounding because he didn’t expect to have to deal with this now. But maybe doing it like this is better. Quick and to the point, like ripping off a bandage, without any frills or false starts to work around.   
  
“Yeah, all right. All right.”   
  
Marty grins. “All right, lover. Let’s go pull the rug out from under them all.”   
  
Rust breaths out heavily, pulling Marty closer to him with one hand on the small of his back as the other sidles up to his cheek, thumbing along the edges of Marty’s mouth. “You sure you’re ready for this?”   
  
Marty kisses Rust once, hard. “Yeah, I am. It’s time. Ain’t it?”   
  
Resolutely, together, they fall away from one another and walk toward the entryway. The mistletoe looms ahead, suddenly above, and Rust hasn’t felt nerves like these since his wedding day, lifetimes ago.   
  
“Rust, where’ve you been?” Audrey demands. She’s nearly drunk on egg nog and Maggie narrows her eyes at her, though she’s grinning.   
  
Rust clears his throat, his hands finding their way into his pockets, somehow. Marty, smiling, looks up pointedly at the damned mistletoe, stares at the thing for a solid length of time, long enough for Audrey to start in on a long, low catcall of a whistle.   
  
All other conversation ceases as Marty and Rust lock eyes. Something passes between them, something hard and decisive. Reaffirming. Determined.   
  
Rust is caught unawares when Marty slings his fingers through his belt loops and pulls him close, planting a kiss on him. Rust is unstable, doesn’t have anything to hold onto, and Marty calms his scrambling hands as they come blazing out his pockets, searching for purchase.   
  
There’s a collective gasp heard round the room that falls into a subtler silence as Marty kisses Rust again, slower this time, Rust’s fingers intertwined with his.   
  
Rust’s eyes are closed, he’s dizzy. All he can really focus on is staying grounded, connected to Marty before him, and he wasn’t worried before but he kind of is now.   
  
He reminds himself that they’re in this together, no matter what their reaction is like. It’ll be quite the singular hurt for Marty if his family doesn’t like his choice of partner, and so he just hopes that they can understand this.   
  
Marty’s lips fall away and slowly, Rust blinks his eyes open. His left hand is freed, but his right is still connected to Marty’s, and he grips it tighter, the only anchor he’s ever known.   
  
Audrey is crying, he notices. Smiling, but crying, and Maggie looks like she’s about to lose the laughter she’s holding back behind both hands. Macie’s the only one who looks utterly unsurprised behind her smile, and Rust concedes that he hasn’t given Marty’s youngest enough credit.   
  
“Well?” Marty asks, and Maggie does start laughing then. Marty and Rust look at each other, raising their eyebrows.   
  
“It’s about time!” Audrey lets loose with a wail, and Brandon scoots closer to her on the couch to wrap a comforting arm around her.   
  
“Yes,” Maggie agrees, quieting down. “Yes, it really is.”   
  
“Daddy, Rust… I’m so proud of you. I’m… so… happy for you!” Audrey cries.   
  
“Thanks, sweetheart, but maybe you should lay off the egg nog for the rest of the night, huh? C’mere.” He extends a hand down to her and pulls her up into a hug. After a moment, Audrey rears her head and is reaching for Rust’s arm, pulling him into it, too. He awkwardly pats them both on the back as their arms surround him, and everyone laughs.   
  
Rust freezes for a split second before he realizes it’s not a judgmental kind of laugh, but a laugh of fulfilled expectations and understanding. They laugh because they know Rust, they know how he can be, they accept and acknowledge him, social anxiety issues or not.   
  
Then suddenly Audrey is centering her hug on Rust alone, and it takes a moment or two, but Rust relaxes into it, makes it real, for his sake as well as hers.   
  
It isn’t long before Audrey’s moved closer to Brandon on the couch to make room for both Marty and Rust to sit, squeezed in side by side, and then Macie pulls out a game, Cards Against Humanity. Five minutes in and he and Marty and everyone else are laughing hard enough for tears to form in their eyes, and Rust honestly can’t remember the last time a thing like that has happened. Marty’s hand finds his, and Rust grins, thinking he’d like to make every last thing about this Christmas a tradition from here on out. 


End file.
